You very surprisingly get elected to the U.S. Senate, supposedly as an expression of angst among voters impatiently waiting for a new hero to straighten out that bloody mess in Washington. And what do you do?

You immediately decide to write a book about your wonderful self. The public’s business can wait. After all, you have only pierced the shell of anonymity and, like a Hollywood protégé reaching for stardom, you must strike quickly to achieve sustainable celebrity status as your 15 minutes of fame circle the drain.

You are like the man who jumps from a 20-story window and is heard to say as he passes the 10th floor, “So far, so good…” and as he plunges past the fifth floor, “but I better do something quick!”

U.S. Sen. Scott Brown, or, “The Hunk” as he is known in female television circles by virtue of his naked-truth photos in a by-gone issue of Cosmopolitan magazine, has announced his intention to pen an autobiography while he hones his potential as a Republican assassin of Democrat initiatives, the health-care bill topping the hit list, and hopefully stuffs his personal coffer with a six-figure advance, to be shared, of course, with a charity.

But a book already? What has Brown accomplished besides drive a pick-up, shoplift some music, strip for the cameras and be sentenced by voters to serve time in Washington’s political nuthouse? By golly, he hasn’t even experienced the drama of a plane crash, driven off an island bridge, gained booze weight, survived AA or wheedled billions of dollars for a road project in his state. Isn’t it enough at this early stage of his career to be playing the stooge to late-night comedians, being a willing foil on satirical SNL and putting Massachusetts on the map as the state that buried meaningful national health-care reform?

That might be a little rough. Brown, like George Bush, did get more votes (?) than the Democrat candidate, meaning that more male voters like buddies who drive pickups more than women who operate a Mercedes (?), and that insightful females, according to their TV talk shows, know instinctively that a well-proportioned masculine physique can get more done in Washington than an accomplished but lackluster person of their gender – maybe as some lustful men voted for Sarah Palin.

As to Brown’s book, there’s the story about an author being asked if writing was difficult. “Heck no,” he replied, “Just stare at the keyboard and sweat blood.” Brown is not going to perspire plasma. He’ll hire a “collaborator” – a hated word associated with World War II betrayals – to do the writing for him so he can spend more time, say his representatives, doing the fickle peoples’ bidding, whatever that might be at any particular time. Like the weather, give it a few hours and it changes. No matter. Analyzing one’s semi-bland, half-completed lifetime for print surely adds to one’s preoccupations.

It isn’t as if publishers approached Brown with an offer. The word is he’s “shopping” the autobiography via a high-powered agent who has represented Presidents Obama and Clinton. Well. At least it shows initiative. If he really wants to sell a book (The Judas Vote), he could turn his back on the GOP and be the 60th and deciding member of the Emergency Medical Team that kept health care reform alive. Now that would show spine and truly be worthy of a hard-cover.

Short of that, what to title the book? Reflecting his sudden rise to power, it could be The Brown Crown Affair or, playing to his nude Cosmopolitan modeling which the TV hostesses seem to adore, Scott Free or, reflecting his pending killer vote on health care, Brownout.

Inside the book: Given the dreadful suffering of impoverished and seriously injured children in the aftermath of the recent Haitian earthquake, one hopes Brown will keep his emotionally challenging upbringing with thrice-divorced parents to himself. Enough constituents have been there and done that to render the dysfunctional family and its messed-up siblings a commonplace tale replayed more often that TV’s Law and Order. Most folks take the scornful advice of their local bartender to simply “get over it.”

At any rate, the 12,331 Barnstable voters who placed their thirst for change in Mr. Brown surely will line up at local bookstores awaiting the biography of their hero. The 7,543 voters who didn’t vote for Brown will probably use their book money to pay the new increases in their health care premiums.